I am going to take the world by the balls. Take no prisoners. I will be the badass bitch I ache to be. This is my fucking time.
I take the left turn off the main interstate down a long dirt road. This address can't be right because it doesn't look like anyone has driven down here in ages. The trees and bushes are overgrown. The road has deteriorated. I see the house; it’s large and white. Green vines cover most of the windows and the front porch is full of holes. Clearly, no one has lived here in forever. This can't be the right address.
I check the GPS again, I look at the address Davis e-mailed me. But everything is right. It’s just a dead end. There is no Wesley Driscoll here. There is no Willow. There is no sign of life beyond a couple stray cats and God knows what that is now living in this house that is supposed to be home to my fucking daughter.
For the first time in days, I feel tears filling my eyes. So much hope filled my day. Only to be smashed once again. I feel like I am fighting a fucking losing battle. I am never going to find Willow. She is gone. Should I accept it? What do I do now? I feel so fucking defeated.
The tears glide down my cheeks as I punch the steering wheel of my car. A sob escapes me, and I cry louder. With the windows tightly rolled up, on a deserted road, I break down. Flailing like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
“It’s not fucking fair!” I scream.
I cover my face with my hands and wipe the tears away. This is such bullshit. I want to drive right back to Woodstock and find my mother. I want to wring her fucking neck until she tells me where the fuck my daughter is. The only thing stopping me is fear. Fear that she won't know. Fear that she will do more to hide my little girl from me. Fear that she will get in my way, or stop me. This is all her fault. I will never forgive her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Goddamn it all.
I back my car up and turn around heading back for the main road. I type Davis's number into my phone and throw it into the center console while the phone line cues up with the Bluetooth system in my car.
“Davis,” he answers the phone, all business. I choke back a sob, and do my best to bury the amount of disappointment in my voice.
“Hi, Davis. Star Bloom here.” I try to smile, even though I know he can't see me through the phone. I need to get my shit together. I need to stop letting these dead ends fuck me up so bad. Maybe I just need a serious fucking prescription of Zoloft or something?
“Miss Bloom, good to hear from you. Were you able to follow up on that address?” I want to yell at him, but I know none of this is his fault. I need to channel the misplaced rage I am feeling.
“Yes, Davis. I’m actually leaving the house right now. It is abandoned. Looks as though no one has lived there for quite some time.”
I blow out a deep breath and focus on the road as I pull back onto the main interstate without killing anyone. I hear him sigh as the keys of a computer keyboard sound off in the background.
“Interesting. Okay. Give me a couple hours and I will see if I can pull up any more information. I am sorry about that, Star. I would have never sent you there if I had known that.”
He is genuinely sorry. I’m sure he has dealt with clients in my position before, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with on my part. It sucks. But there is nothing in my power I can do about it right now. I will roll with the punches and deal with it all as it comes.
Maybe I could use a good yoga session?
“You okay?” River asks from behind me. I’m sure my red blotchy face gives me away. Or maybe it’s the sniffles as I shuffle my feet to the door of my lonely motel room.
“Yeah, I just got some shitty news this afternoon. Not a big deal.”
I shrug it off, but it is a big deal. I know Davis is one of the best in his field, and if there is something to find, he will find it. Unfortunately, his trail is cold at this moment. Nothing either of us can do about it. No need to cry or carry on. He’ll find something, and I will be able to continue my search soon enough.
“Please tell me it doesn't have to do with my brother.” He’s pissed. I can tell by his clipped tone. He doesn't hide his emotions well at all.
“No, for once since I rolled into town, this has nothing to do with Chrome.” Three damn days and it feels like I have become a staple in this town already. I don't know if I like it or hate it. Maybe it is time to finally make some good memories of Woodstock?
“Well, if you need to talk you know where to find me.” He disappears back inside the motel office, and I wander into my room with only one mission. Call Seven and vent. If I keep this all pent up inside, it is going to end badly.
A realization hits me. That is what drugs have been for me all these years. My out. A way to numb these feelings. Now I am being forced to deal with them, and, even though I have no idea how to, I am figuring it all out on my own. This is what I should have done a long time ago.
The line rings and rings and rings. Totally unlike Seven. She might as well live on top of her cell. She always answers on the first or second ring. Finally, she answers, but she sounds like absolute death.
“You okay, Sev?”
“Just battling some food poisoning.”
“Can you listen?” She reluctantly agrees. I don't want to keep her on the phone, but she listens like the best friend she always has been, and probably will be.
I offload everything. All the things on my mind that have been eating at me for months, years. Everything I did since I got to Woodstock, minus everything with Chrome. I’m just not ready to even think about that. I finally close with the dead end I faced this afternoon. No Willow in sight.
“Star, we will find her. I promise you.”
I hear her gag on the other end of the line, and I know the conversation is over. The phone crashes to the floor and I hit the end button. Poor Seven; she never gets sick, but clearly something did a number on her. I feel bad that I’m not there to take care of her, like she always has been for me. I know she understands. She encouraged me to set off on this journey. But it doesn't make me feel any less bad. I’m never there for her when she needs me, yet she is always front and center for me. I really am a shitty friend.
Several soft knocks sound on the hotel room door, waking me from my impromptu nap. I look at the clock and realize Chrome is the one on the other side of the door. Seven on the dot. I don't want to answer the door. I wish I could just pretend that I’m not here, but my car is a dead giveaway in the parking lot.
“Come on, Star. You’re the one who told me to come.” He bangs a little bit louder, and finally, I get my ass up from the bed and answer the door.
“Sorry, I fell asleep.” I invite him into the small room, which seems even smaller with him invading my space. I begin to think this room really isn't going to cut it much longer. I don't want to stay here, but I don't want to go back to Manhattan, either. Maybe ever. It just isn't my thing anymore. It isn't home for me. It was just a temporary getaway from the demons I never faced.
“You wanted to talk?” I ask him as I curl back up on the surprisingly comfortable bed, propping my head up in my hand. He turns his face away and takes a deep breath. Turning back to me, his hands try to run through the hair he doesn't have on his head. His face is pained and I feel guilty. Like I am the one causing him this pain; it’s my natural reaction to anyone suffering around me, since, for years, I have been the source of pain for so many people.
“It was stupid of me to think you were going to be staying in town. You are only checked into a motel.” He shakes his head and his hands fall into his lap. “But I don't want you to leave Woodstock. I know I am not around a lot, but when I am here, and not away on club business, I want to see you.”
What the fuck did he just say? He wants me here in Woodstock? What kind of fucking game is this?
“Hear me out before you say anything, please,” he stops me. Maybe it’s the look on my face, which I can only speculate is torn between terror and shock. My arm gives out and my head flops back onto the pillo
w.
“Look. I am not good with this shit. Scarlett loves you; she thinks you are the coolest person ever. River holds a torch for you. I... well, I like you Star.”
I can't listen to this anymore. I cut him off. For some odd reason, I am mad.
“You don't fucking know me, Chrome.” I shoot up straight in bed and my arms start flailing all over. “You know nothing about me! You don't know why I am in town. You don't know why I left Woodstock to begin with. You don't know anything beyond my fucking name and maybe the fact that you like to shove your dick in me any chance you get. That is why you came here tonight, right? Gotta get off again before you hit the road?” I snap. I am a lunatic. It is official. I need help.
“Shut the fuck up! Just shut your stupid ass fucking mouth!” He gets up from the tiny chair his ass was occupying and stalks toward the bed. “Will you fucking listen to a word I am saying?” he yells. He is so close; I can feel his breath on my cheeks, but I squeeze my eyes shut, just waiting for the blow to come.
“Why the fuck are you cowering? Who fucking beats on you, Star? Goddamn it!”
He backs away, sitting down at the other end of the bed. When I feel the weight dip, I slowly open my eyes back up. I watch him cautiously. His pained eyes never leave mine.
“Tell me, Star,” he gently whispers. I want to open up to him. I want him to be my safe place. I want him to be my refuge. Can I take a chance on him? All the dreams of a happily ever after I have craved since I was a child play through my mind. But is he that kind of guy? Will it pay off or will I just end up hurt once again in my life? So many questions engulf my mind. Questions I wish I had an answer to. Everything in me screams, run; don't trust him. Don't fucking trust men at all. But I know this may be the chance to start over I need.
I close my eyes while I argue with myself, only opening them again when I feel his rough hand run along my tear-stained cheek.
“Chrome, you don't want me. You don't want to know what I have been through in my life. You don't want to get mixed up in someone as fucked up as me. I’ll tell you, but I am giving you this chance to turn and walk out of that door before I unload this all on you.”
I look up to his warm eyes, full of caring, looking at me in a way no one has looked at me before in my life. Not even Seven. It is now or never.
“I don't want to go anywhere, Star. You don't have to believe me, but I won't walk out that door.” His words should mean nothing, because no one has ever stood by me. But he doesn't move. He sits on the bed, next to me, keeping a cautious distance, and letting me work out whatever it is that I need to.
“It started when I was young. Really fucking young.” Do I start there? Do I want to dive into the really bad right off the bat? Is that even fair to him?
“My childhood was fucked up. I grew up here in Woodstock. My parents had an old VW bus. It was my family, and my best friend's family. Our parents are swingers, I guess? I don't know; it’s fucked up. But they had a son who was a lot older than us. Blue would watch us when they were off doing God knows what. Drugs, fucking... whatever was on their agenda for the day.”
I don't want to talk about this anymore. I feel sick. I want to throw up.
“I was young, eight, maybe nine, when it started. It went on for years. I thought it was okay because we had done it for so long. When I was a teen and he came around, we would fuck around. I thought it was all just normal.” I almost don't notice, but a single tear falls from my eye. It’s the start of a flood.
“The first time, I said no. He wouldn't listen. He just wouldn't stop. He called me names and told me I led him on. He took my virginity.” My stomach churns again, and I know for sure this time it won't be as forgiving as it has been in the past when I thought about those moments. My body surges forward off the bed, and I run for the bathroom. Just as I pass the threshold of the door, I empty the contents of my stomach all over the grey tiled floor, missing the toilet by a few inches. Chrome’s big hands grasp my hair, pulling it from my face as I continue to dry heave over the toilet. But nothing comes up. Everything is already out. I wave him off, and he takes a few steps back, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
I rinse my mouth and throw a towel over the mess I just made. I can't bring myself to clean up vomit right now. I will continue getting sick if I even try.
I push past him, heading for my perch back on the bed. The comfort of the little bit of home I have right now. He follows like a lost puppy dog, waiting for me to continue down the road of my fucked up life. I do.
“It continued, but I let it. I thought he loved me, but what Blue has for me isn't love; it is a sense of possession. But it stopped for a long time. When he got me pregnant, he left. He wouldn't touch me. I was broken. I was damaged. He did it to me, and he walked away. Eventually, our parents found out, and they got involved. Blue didn't come back. Not for years. But, by then, the damage was done.”
My tears begin again. I have told Seven the story, but this is different. Chrome’s body is tense. His face is stone. He looks as though he could snap and kill someone at any moment. But his anger isn't directed at me. It is directed at the person who truly deserves every ounce of hate someone could conjure up: Blue. I can almost see him plotting a way to off him behind those brown eyes. Even if he tried, I wouldn't stop him. His genuine pain over my years of hurt is moving.
I feel like a weight is being lifted from my soul. He is taking the pain I have lived with for all these years. Crushing it and killing it. Giving it no power over me anymore.
“When Willow was born, our parents took her. They found a family to adopt her. The Driscolls lived in a commune locally somewhere. It wasn't until I decided to look for her that I learned the parents were killed in a car accident a couple years ago. I can't find Willow. All the traces of her are gone. All dead ends.”
I let out a sigh and the tears slow.
“He broke me. Losing Willow broke me. I got involved in bad shit over the years. I've been doing porn since I turned eighteen. I’m sure you have seen some of it.” I can't help but laugh because I can tell, just by looking into his eyes, that I’m right.
“I don't care, Star. I don't fucking care about any of it. I mean, I do care, but I don't. Fuck. I don't know what to say. I want to kill him, because he hurt you. If anyone ever touched Scarlett, I would kill them. I would fucking kill them. Your fucking parents should have protected you.” The rage within him is building. His warm eyes are becoming dark. For once in the short time we have been together, his anger doesn't scare me.
“That’s why I’m in Woodstock. I am trying to find my daughter. Once I do, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I was planning on going back to Manhattan, but I don't think that’s a good idea now, either. I am not strong enough to be around the fast lane again. Drugs are too much of a temptation, and I've lost too many years already. I don't know what I’m going to do, Chrome. But I don't want to lead you or your family on. I don't want to hurt any of you.”
“Can you do something for me, Star?”
Can I? I don't know. I can barely do anything for myself these days, but if I can, I will fucking try my damnedest.
“What?”
“Don't leave before I get back on Thursday. Promise me you won't leave.” His hands pick mine up from my lap, his fingers running across my knuckles. I can't leave until after Friday, so I guess I can reassure him I will still be here, at least until then.
“I have something on Friday. I will still be here when you get back. Where are you going?”
I can't help my nosy nature. I want to know. I want him to call me when he is gone. I want him to be mine. Fuck everything. This is the most ridiculous shit ever.
“I got club business to deal with in Massachusetts. I will try to get back as early as I can. I leave tomorrow night, after dinner. You think you would wanna come over for family dinner with Scarlett? It is kind of a Sunday thing when I’m home.”
“Do you like it?” Maybe I shouldn't be so vague. “The nomad lifest
yle. Being on the road all the time. Ya know, with the club.” I never had a real home, even though I have always craved one. But the open road is the only place I have ever felt at home.
“Sometimes. I miss Scarlett, but nothing beats the freedom of the open road. It helps me clear my head.”
“Chrome? Bring me for a ride?”
A lazy smile spreads across his face, as he slowly pulls me across the bed and into his arms.
“Not before I do this.” His lips lightly graze mine, gently placing a chaste kiss against my lips. No passion or want. Just comfort, promise, caring. Simple affection. He shows me how much he cares with the simple gesture. Even though I’m not ready for his wordless confession, I soak up every second of it. It calms me. Comforts me. Starts to slowly repair all the cracks in my broken soul. Something I never thought would happen.
His mouth pulls away from mine, and he takes my hand, pulling me up from the bed and heading for the door.
“You are gonna wanna do something with your hair, and put on a warm jacket. It’s cold out there this time of night.” My hair? Well, it’s too short to pull back; what the hell can I do? Never mind. I have an idea.
“Can I use that bandana?” I point at his colors, hanging from his back pocket. Some kind of unspoken motorcycle gang thing. But I don't care. It’s the rag, or my hair smacking him upside the head. He pulls the blue bandana out of his back pocket and folds it.
“Come here.” He stands behind me, pushing my short hair behind my ears, and gently tying the bandana around my head, holding it all in place.
“This should work. Too tight?” His concern is funny to me, no one has ever treated me so gingerly. Coming from such a beast of a man it’s more than touching.
“It's fine.” I pull my thick black hoodie on and zip it up. I’m ready. Desperate to see if the peace of the open road is enough to continue repairing everything that has always been wrong with me.
Finding Willow (Hers) Page 10
